


i've never been a natural (all i do is try)

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friendship, Pining, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Chloe, Aubrey, and what it means to be loved over their years together at Barden.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Aubrey Posen, Chloe Beale/Aubrey Posen, side Beca/Chloe
Comments: 26
Kudos: 75
Collections: Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive





	i've never been a natural (all i do is try)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tmylm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/gifts).



> This is for [Ellie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm) who donated to a charity of her choosing in support of the [PP Fandom Drive](https://ppfandomdrive.tumblr.com/). Thank you! Your prompt was "chaubrey + smangst".
> 
> Fic title from "Mirrorball" by Taylor Swift, which somehow encapsulates what I feel about Aubrey's character through PP1 and PP2 and some of PP3. Stream folklore.

_**to be forgiven** _

* * * * *

Aubrey knows what love is. Or at least—conceptually, she knows what it means in all the usual ways: being cared for, having somebody be there emotionally and physically, maybe even a serenade here and there.

Aubrey doesn’t even necessarily have _high_ expectations, just expectations. Simple, mundane expectations because it’s what she’s been told all her life. It’s what has been instilled in her: standards, rigidity, obedience, and expectations.

And she has to live up to every one of those things or face the consequences.

She senses Chloe before she hears her adjusting into the seat next to her.

“I messed up the solo, I deserve whatever’s coming,” Aubrey says, primly adjusting her uniform collar.

“Aubrey, you didn’t mess up,” Chloe says gently. Gentle. That’s something that Chloe has about her. It makes Aubrey envious, really, but she has no time for that. Any of that. The feelings, the envy, the gentleness.

Gentleness never got anybody anywhere.

That being said, meeting Chloe on the first day of Bellas rehearsals had been both the worst and best experience of Aubrey’s freshman year.

Scratch that. Perhaps it’s _this_. Or what had transpired not too long ago. A few short moments ago.

“I...I missed my cue for my solo—the solo I had to _beg_ for. Posens don’t beg.”

Chloe shrugs. “I didn’t notice if you messed up.”

“Alice definitely noticed.”

“So?”

Aubrey doesn’t dare twist so she can face Chloe fully. The auditorium has since emptied and they are the only two, sitting right in the middle of the orchestra seating. She doesn’t want to see whatever sympathy flashes across Chloe’s face. It’s not like they’re _friends,_ not really.

“I noticed,” Aubrey finally says quietly. _A Posen would notice_.

“I thought you sounded really good,” Chloe informs her. “Your voice is pretty.”

Aubrey glances up at Chloe, somewhat intimidated by the startling clear blue eyes gazing back at her without an ounce of sympathy. Simply understanding and a kindness that Aubrey has seen so rarely in her life.

“Thank you,” she manages. “But...the competition. Our performance…” She isn’t sure where she’s going with this, only that she failed and it is _odd_ that Chloe isn’t even acknowledging that.

“I thought we sounded great. It was your first solo, Aubrey! You did amazing.”

The nauseating feeling lessens ever so slightly. “You did?”

“And so what if you think you messed up? You were so brave for taking that solo.”

There is no hint of deceit in Chloe’s eyes. Aubrey isn’t sure Chloe could be deceitful even if she tried.

“Thank you,” she whispers, allowing Chloe to reach out and hold her hand.

It is nice, knowing that she can still be a success in somebody’s eyes. It is nice, knowing that the sensation of Chloe holding her hand isn’t conditioned on her successes of failures.

Just the two of them, sitting in an empty auditorium and nowhere else to be.

* * * * *

_**to be cherished** _

* * * * *

When Aubrey breaks up with Howie near the end of her sophomore at Barden, she finds herself storming up to Chloe’s apartment—Chloe who hadn’t been lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to secure a spot in the Bella’s House—and breaking down in ways that would have made her parents recoil.

“That’s it,” Chloe announces after only five minutes of moping. Or at least, Aubrey’s version of moping: voraciously stuffing Chloe’s homemade cookies into her mouth. “We’re going out tonight.”

“Why?” Aubrey asks shortly. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

“You need to get over him,” Chloe responds, tugging the plate of cookies away from Aubrey’s grasp. “I know just the cure.”

“I don’t need to get over him. I already have.”

“I’m sure you have.” Chloe sighs from where she is wrapping the cookies in saran wrap. “He was a total dick to you anyway and you guys were going to break up. I’m shocked you guys didn’t break up weeks ago.”

Aubrey takes a moment to really assess her emotions on the matter. She finds that she is mostly shaken up that it wasn’t something she had anticipated. Not in the near future at least. She just kind of figured they’d kind of taper off and simply... _exist_ in each other’s life. She hadn’t expected him to throw a wrench in her plans quite like that.

“Right,” she says slowly. “I suppose that’s where we were going anyway. I just...I’m not a fan of change, Chloe.”

Chloe reaches out to pull her hands up so they are standing in front of each other. “I know,” Chloe acknowledges quietly. “But you didn’t like him. And he treated you like crap. You deserve to be treated better.”

* * * * *

That’s how it starts without Aubrey even realizing what is happening until she is sitting across from Chloe at a nice restaurant, two weeks in a row.

This is, for all intents and purposes, Chloe treating her like a total queen.

On a date.

These are _dates_.

Aubrey can’t even bring herself to ask for fear of embarrassing herself in front of Chloe, even though she knows Chloe would never laugh at her or ridicule her. She has spilled so much to Chloe over the past couple of years. There is something incredibly deep and fulfilling about their friendship.

 _I could love you_ , Aubrey thinks.

At that moment, Chloe glances up at her, smiling at her through a mouthful of pasta. Her smile is playful and light, but her eyes are bright, shining with an emotion Aubrey can’t identify. Aubrey hates the notion of blurry lines—hates the idea that this could be something.

 _I could love you too_ , Chloe seems to say back. _If you’d let me._

Chloe has always waited for Aubrey to make her moves—waited for Aubrey to open up. It would be, Aubrey thinks, fairly easy to let this transition into something more. But Chloe represents something so much deeper; something incredibly important to Aubrey that she doesn’t have the stomach to burrow into her own mind in order to figure out _what_.

“Are you going to eat your dinner?” Chloe asks, breaking Aubrey out of her solitude.

“Yeah. It’s...I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Oh. You know.”

Chloe hums, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she wraps her lips around her fork once more. “This is nice, y’know? You and me. Without the other Bellas.”

Aubrey doesn’t have the heart to tell Chloe that it is simply because they are so wildly disliked by the rest of the senior Bellas, being the only two juniors in the group. She doesn’t like it when Chloe is disheartened.

“You and me,” Aubrey echoes.

Chloe hums, something non-committal, but Aubrey doesn’t miss the way Chloe’s eyes cut to her very briefly before she gazes away again.

It is nice, saying that aloud, but Aubrey is afraid to say more because she doesn't understand the breadth of her own emotions. She can't even _categorize_ what she's feeling, how could she possibility explain anything to Chloe?

* * * * *

Later, as Aubrey lies awake at night, she decides that she somewhat likes this state of in-between with Chloe. It doesn’t feel as daunting as she would have thought. Instead, it feels comfortable, knowing that Chloe and her seem to be on the same page, despite all the things left unspoken.

(She is wrong.)

* * * * *

_**to be desired** _

* * * * *

They aren’t dating. They probably never will. But this—this making out on and off—this is a new development.

It had started at a party a few weeks ago, under the shadow of drunkenness, tumbling into Chloe’s bed, arms around each other. A tangle of limbs. A mess, for all intents and purposes, but it hadn’t sent Aubrey running. Quite the opposite in fact.

And now...

“I’m—” Aubrey swallows the lump in her throat (categorically it feels like desire and panic all at once) as Chloe’s lips trail down her neck. “I’ve never done this with a girl before,” she whispers, clamping her mouth shut almost immediately after. It feels like admitting something is wrong with her—feels like admitting some kind of failure because after all, life is nothing but a binary of success and failure.

It is then that Chloe stops and ceases her ministrations to draw back and look at her with her brow furrowed. “I know,” she murmurs, sliding her hand down Aubrey’s jaw. “We talked about it,” Chloe continues, casually bringing up a conversation that been both freeing and mortifying for Aubrey. She had never known somebody like Chloe before—had never known a friend who would be so open and willing to share anecdotes about her own life without a care in the world.

Aubrey inhales shakily, willing her body to resist the temptation of Chloe’s lips against her skin, as pleasurable as ever. “No, wait—” Chloe draws back, sitting back on Aubrey’s thighs patiently at Aubrey’s protest. Somehow she manages to still look equal parts innocent and filthy with her eyes blown wide—innocently so in some respects—and with her hair in a complete disarray from Aubrey’s eager hands. Aubrey clenches her hands into her bedspread and sits up slightly to level herself with Chloe more. “I’ve just...also never really…” She clears her throat. “You know. Gotten...there.”

Chloe’s jaw slackens for a moment and she tilts her head, contemplating Aubrey’s words. “What do you mean you’ve never _gotten there_?”

“ _Chloe_ ,” Aubrey complains.

“Okay, maybe I do know, but—” Chloe leans forward with a soft giggle. Her hair tickles Aubrey’s skin ever so gently. “Never? Not even by yourself?”

Aubrey’s face feels ridiculously hot. “I’ve...tried. A few times. Maybe a couple times I—” Words stick in her chest, unwilling to spill forward. A swell of insecurity and unspoken desires course through her.

_I don’t know myself._

_My own body._

_I don’t know how to love myself like that._

Chloe’s eyes soften. “Aubrey,” she murmurs quietly, like she knows. Because of course, she knows. It is just so very _Chloe_ of her—a marker of who Chloe Beale is as a person since she crashed through Aubrey’s life like a tornado over the past two years or so. Chloe has somehow known things before Aubrey has even had a chance to compartmentalize them and sift through every point at her painstakingly slow place; Chloe has somehow always been the antithesis.

Aubrey doesn’t dare say anything, too caught up in her own thoughts again, but Chloe lifts a hand to curl through her hair. If they weren’t in the position they currently find themselves, sprawled on Aubrey’s too-large bed and across Aubrey’s too-plain sheets, Aubrey could close her eyes and imagine Chloe carding her fingers through her hair on a regular movie night on the couch.

It scares her how normal this feels.

“Not even with Howie?” Chloe asks, still quiet. Still moving her fingers through Aubrey’s hair. Still sitting astride Aubrey’s thighs. Aubrey shakes her head. “Good thing you broke up with him,” Chloe comments with a smile.

That breaks some of the tension that Aubrey had felt building in her chest. She both hates and loves how comfortable she can be with Chloe—how Chloe makes things feel easy and light, like Aubrey can exist without trying so hard. Like this is how it can be. How it ought to be.

“Yeah, good thing,” Aubrey murmurs, closing her eyes when Chloe’s lips meet hers again.

“We’ll get you there,” Chloe murmurs, kissing determinedly down Aubrey’s neck and between her breasts with a destination seemingly in mind.

Aubrey believes her.

Eventually Chloe seems to settle between Aubrey’s legs—how had she gotten there?—and Aubrey feels, abstractly as she dissociates from her own body, kiss-swollen lips begin to trail over the soaked material of Aubrey’s underwear.

“Chloe,” she rasps out. “ _Okay_ —you...you don’t—” Aubrey cuts herself off with a choked gasp when Chloe kisses the fabric of the soaked material of her underwear. _You don’t have to do that_ , is what Aubrey had wanted to say, but in a rare moment of internal conflict with her word choice, she clamps her mouth shut as Chloe’s kisses increase in their pressure and intensity, even going as far as to gently sucking at Aubrey’s clit through her underwear.

Now, all Aubrey wants to say is _Never stop._

She can barely manage more than a strangled, moaning gasp—a foreign sound—when Chloe draws her head away.

“Why?” It comes out as a demand.

Chloe’s smile is positively sinful, a far cry from the usual pleasantness or playfulness found on her face. Aubrey feels dizzy from the heat coursing through her body. “Do you want me to stop?” Chloe asks. “We can stop,” Chloe promises, though she licks her lips with devastating effect. Aubrey wonders if Chloe’s lips will glisten as they do now if she were to...well. The thought remains half-complete in her mind.

“I guess…” Aubrey clears her throat going for some authority. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh,” Chloe drawls. “So you want me to continue?” Chloe asks, adopting a tone entirely too innocent and too willing for the situation. Aubrey clenches around nothing, entirely too wet and swollen, at the tone and Chloe’s subtle nudge at her penchant for control.

“Yes,” Aubrey murmurs.

“Okay,” Chloe hums. “I want to taste you…if that's okay with you.”

Aubrey tries to run through a list of reasons why she _wouldn’t_ want that—tries to itemize reasons why she should tell Chloe to stop, but she can’t. She finds that she _wants_ this so much; she wants Chloe to make her feel good and she wants to just feel good, period.

She is no longer thinking about Howie, any of her other exes, or even her own inability to make herself feel good.

Allowing herself this one pleasure will make her feel good.

The simplicity causes her to sag into her bed, gasping out a breath when, at the same time, Chloe pulls her underwear down her legs eagerly.

“Okay,” Aubrey murmurs, mostly to herself. “Okay.”

Chloe shifts forward, the movement guiding her snugly between Aubrey’s legs. Beneath Aubrey’s thighs, she feels the press of Chloe’s shoulders, shifting forward ever so slightly. But no—that isn’t what she’s supposed to be focusing on, not when Chloe and her damn tongue are as eager as the rest of her. Despite the eagerness in Chloe’s movements, there is something gentle and exploratory about it all. It feels pleasant and warm and her stomach clenches pleasurably—a far cry from the usual nauseating feeling she gets with startling regularity.

 _This is it_ , she thinks, eyes slipping shut as Chloe’s mouth moves against her, wet and soft and so, so warm. _This is what it’s meant to be like_ — _what it must mean to be wanted._

A beat.

Aubrey’s heart sinks.

She doesn’t feel anything—doesn’t feel the white-hot pleasure or the sharp sensation of desire or lust like she’s always read about in her own research. Chloe’s tongue and lips between her legs and—and—

“Oh fuck—!” She claps a hand over her mouth as Chloe’s tongues curls and slides, this time pushing upward just right. A jolt of pleasure hooks into her, somewhere in her belly, and _tugs_. Aubrey cries out again, this time from behind her hand, hips lurching upwards. Chloe pins her hips down with sure, deft hands. The strength of Chloe’s hold on her only makes her wetter even though she had thought that impossible.

_Oh._

This is what it feels like to be wanted.

Between her legs, Chloe grins. Aubrey can fucking _feel_ it.

 _We’ll get you there_ , is what Chloe had said.

Aubrey believes her.

Chloe has, after all, never given Aubrey any reason to _not_ believe her.

* * * * *

Touching Chloe in return is an experience on its own. It is incredible and satisfying and all the words that Aubrey has yet to learn. An enviable vocabulary and she has nothing on the tip of her tongue to describe what it means to be so breathless after having Chloe come apart at her hands.

Chloe’s soft voice, ever soothing, guiding her as she learns Chloe’s body inside and out.

“Right there,” Chloe murmurs, like she is telling Aubrey the time. Her hand, wrapped around Aubrey’s wrist, guides Aubrey’s hand against slick, wet folds and an insistent, stiff clit. It makes Aubrey inhale sharply, knowing that she is touching Chloe so intimately—another woman!—and yet, she feels like she can’t imagine herself doing anything else.

“Here,” Aubrey echoes, rubbing the pads of her fingers gently against Chloe’s stimulated center. A soft moan escapes her when she dips her fingers inside Chloe ever so slightly, feeling Chloe tense beneath her immediately, like she is trying to pull Aubrey in deeper. The thought makes her hot and wet all over again and she shifts, biting her lip as she hovers over a shockingly quiet and docile Chloe Beale.

Chloe says nothing. She nods, pulling Aubrey in for a searing kiss that makes Aubrey feel like she has been doing this for years.

* * * * *

**_to be loved_ **

* * * * *

The summer before senior year is a lot.

Aubrey watches Chloe sip leisurely at her margarita, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. She finds that she hates when Chloe hides her eyes like this when she can’t see the swirl of emotions behind Chloe’s eyes.

“Are you ready for our senior year?” Chloe asks suddenly, putting her drink down.

“I am.”

For a long moment, Chloe doesn’t respond. It is enough of a pause for Aubrey to turn and face Chloe completely because it is so unlike Chloe to not have a response.

“Chloe?”

“I’m...yeah. It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about the Bellas.”

Aubrey is sure that Chloe knows that she hadn’t been thinking about anything else _except_ the Bellas since the end of their last competition. And Puke Gate. She represses a shudder. “Right,” she says slowly. “About what?”

“Just that it’s our last year together,” Chloe replies simply. “I’m thinking about missing you. And just...not being together all the time.”

Aubrey is sure that Chloe isn’t necessarily referring to their loosely-defined Friends With Benefits arrangement (though, Aubrey thinks, it wouldn’t be so loosely-defined if she had just drafted up that contract she had in mind), but it’s the first thing that comes to mind regardless. As with most things having to do with Chloe and sex, a full-body flush immediately rushes through her and she does everything in her power to school her face into one of neutrality as to not alert Chloe to her thoughts.

Still, Aubrey feels affection and tenderness from the woman in front of her. Over their time together at Barden, she has come to know Chloe so intimately and so thoroughly that she can hardly imagine being apart from her as well.

“I get it,” she manages to say. A litany of words—more words, always, somehow—threaten to spill from her lips, but she represses it, afraid of what it would mean to finally, fully wear her heart on her sleeve. “But that just means we have to give it our all, doesn’t it?”

At that, Chloe smiles. “Right. We’re going to be aca-awesome.”

Chloe’s consistent attempts to combine “aca” into their terminology had been something that had made Aubrey laugh at first, not taking it seriously. And Chloe had continued to say it, with the intent of making Aubrey laugh. But now, it is something of an inside-joke between them, neither serious nor a joke. Just something for them, as co-captains. Co-leaders.

Partners.

“Aca-awesome,” Aubrey echoes. “We are, aren’t we?”

The way Chloe gazes at her then, like she thinks Aubrey can do anything in the world...that alone nearly makes Aubrey’s emotional padlock completely fall off her heart, but she grabs at the shackles in a moment of desperation.

The issue between her and Chloe is that neither of them is willing to push each other to that extreme limit—at least not in terms of matters of the heart. Chloe is too gentle with her. Aubrey is too reserved.

Too afraid.

Even though Chloe makes her feel more than she’s ever allowed herself to feel in the past two decades of her life.

* * * * *

It is just so much more efficient to put actions to work when words fail. That is something that Aubrey has learned from Chloe herself. Even as she pulls Chloe into her arms, both of them vying for dominance over the other as they stumble through the darkness of Aubrey’s bedroom.

Nights like these always start and end the same way. She and Chloe have gotten efficient, for lack of a better word, at their arrangement.

Except tonight, something feels slightly different. Not quite _off_ , but not quite what Aubrey’s used to, at least with them. Even with all her incessant planning and thinking, she hadn’t foreseen _this_.

Tonight, it’s different.

Tonight, it’s short, and intense. It leaves them both incredibly sated, both embarrassingly wet and ready for each other as soon as they tumble on the bed, naked. Even with Chloe’s fingers pressed inside her, Aubrey scrambles for _more_ —so much more—grappling with the heaviness of her own emotions. On the cusp of _everything_ , Aubrey tumbles and the experience, breathlessly crying out Chloe’s name, leaves Aubrey stunned into somewhat of a shocked silence. Belatedly, she feels Chloe shuddering against her as she comes around Aubrey’s fingers as well, a soft cry escaping her lips. The jerk of Chloe’s hips against Aubrey’s hand almost sends them both tumbling from her bed, from where they had been lying too close to the edge.

Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, Aubrey thinks that they had been _loud_. And even more belatedly, was that a soreness in her throat? She needs to remember to get tea and honey for herself and Chloe as soon as possible.

Together, they lie, pressed against each other. Aubrey enjoys the sensation of Chloe’s fingers drumming a slow, uneven rhythm against her shoulder, a reminder that they remain connected even by music.

Chloe sighs, somewhat happily. Somewhat morosely. “Aca-amazing,” she whispers, breath hot against Aubrey’s neck.

The brief silence that follows is enough of a space for both their walls to come crashing down. Aubrey bursts into laughter first—true and real giggles leaving her lips—followed quickly by Chloe. Despite the breathlessness in her chest, Aubrey feels calm.

“Aubrey?”

Never mind that. Chloe sounds entirely too nervous for this to be anything good, but Aubrey knows she is powerless to resist whatever Chloe wants to ask of her.

“Yes?”

Aubrey steels herself for whatever question Chloe might throw at her; Aubrey steels herself for whatever the question might hold for their future together. She settles somewhere between being ready and terrified, not too unlike how she feels whenever she performs.

For so long she hadn’t known whose court the ball was in. Now, she might get the chance—now she might—

“It’s…nothing.”

With that, Chloe rolls over and falls asleep rather quickly, leaving Aubrey to stare at the dark ceiling, wondering if the ball had been in her court all along and she had simply failed to do anything about it.

* * * * *

(But what would that conversation have even gone like? Aubrey imagines a thousand possibilities, each ending the same way.

“What do you want this to mean?” Chloe would have asked. Or some variation.

No matter the variable, no matter the input, Aubrey can only compute the same answer: “You,” is what she longs to say. Longed to say. Longed to have said.

The worst part is that she knows that she never would have said it even if Chloe had been asking the same question for the better part of three years together...in every sense of the word.

She tastes the word on her lips, saying it aloud to herself when she lies alone in her bedroom. _You._

An entire world of possibilities.)

* * * * *

Beca Mitchell.

She’s...she’s something, Aubrey can admit that much.

So much possibility rolled into one person.

Aubrey wonders which parts of Beca appeal to Chloe the most.

Aubrey wonders if Beca’s smugness has anything to do with the fact that Chloe looks at her and sees an entire world that she hadn’t known existed before Beca strolled lazily into their lives. It is so easy to identify because it’s all Aubrey can see when she looks at the crumbling pieces of her and Chloe’s world in her own hands.

* * * * *

**_to have loved and lost_ **

* * * * *

Aubrey is not an eavesdropper. In fact, she has learned over time that she would really rather _not_ hear some of the things she’s heard. Some classified, some just...the Bellas at their best and worst.

This probably falls somewhere between the two.

Aubrey pauses. She shifts the spare blankets to her other hand as she catches the tail end of soft murmurs from the lounge area for Lodge guests.

“—wish you told me.”

She recognizes Chloe’s voice immediately and draws closer on instinct. She already knows who Chloe is with even if she hasn’t fully heard another voice. Her assumption is confirmed when she hears a long drawn-out sigh that can only belong to one Beca Mitchell, somehow managing to imbue a _sigh_ with the very slightest hint of sarcasm.

Aubrey closes her eyes. She knows she’s being unfair to Beca. It’s not that she doesn’t _like_ Beca. She likes her very much, in fact. She respects her a lot.

“I wanted to tell you,” Beca finally says. “You know I want to tell you.”

“Anything in particular?” Aubrey’s chest seizes at the flirty, playful tone to Chloe’s voice. She should go. She should.

“Um.” Beca exhales. “Everything.” Her voice has a strange tone to it. Soft and uneven. Low. Quiet. “You know...about the internship,” she adds hastily. “But also…”

“Beca,” Chloe responds. “Of course.”

“I just get so…”

“I know, Bec.”

“There is um, something else.”

Aubrey suddenly feels like she is intruding on something intimate, but she cannot bear to draw away. She tells herself that it is because she’s looking out for Chloe, even after all these years. Even after years of drifting apart.

She just wants to be _right_.

“What is it?” Chloe asks. Aubrey closes her eyes. She hates the tenderness in Chloe’s tone—the sheer gentleness that afflicts Chloe’s voice whenever she talks to Beca. Whenever she so much as talks _about_ Beca.

“It’s you,” Beca says, so quietly that Aubrey has to strain to hear it. "It has always been you."

Aubrey does not hear Chloe's response.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to visit the [PP Fandom Drive page](https://ppfandomdrive.tumblr.com/) as well as my own [Tumblr](https://darby-carter.tumblr.com/). Thank you again [Ellie](https://snowbritt.tumblr.com/) for supporting your fandom of choice and the drive!


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